


Brokenhearted Bastards

by ruinsrebuilt



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M, but then it gets sweet don't worry, it's really sad not gonna lie, there may or may not be a proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruinsrebuilt/pseuds/ruinsrebuilt
Summary: In which George and Joe fight. (And possibly get engaged.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Thanks so much for clicking on my story. This is a fic I wrote for a tumblr request, and I really like it   
> so I decided to post it here. I wrote this in about 5 hours, and it is supremely un-betaed. Please be kind. <3

The air was freezing when Joe stepped outside their apartment and it took him a moment to realize he had forgotten his coat. Fuck. 

It was an easy fix, the coat was hanging on right the back of the door but there was no way he was ruining his dramatic exit by going back in to get it. 

Joe cussed again and walked angrily to his truck. He had no idea where he was going; he just needed to get away from the smoldering ball of rage that was George Luz. 

George was rarely ever truly angry, but when he was it was a sight to behold. Joe actually thought it was kind of cute, the way Luz’s hands shook and he tried to make his voice deeper. It was even cute when he started pounding his fists against Joe’s chest. 

What was not cute, however, was the fact that George wanted to talk to him about seeing a fucking psychiatrist. He slammed the door of his truck and coaxed the tired engine to life.

 

\+ 

 

“What is the big fucking deal, Toye? You need help, it’s not a crime!” George yelled at him. 

“The big fucking deal?” Joe repeated, voice dark. “The big fucking deal is that you already called and set up the damn appointment without even fucking asking me first!” Joe’s glare could’ve melted glaciers but it was doing nothing to dissuade the immovable George Luz. 

“Because I’m trying to help! And what do you think I’m doing now huh? I’m asking you!” 

“After the damn fact, Luz, does not count as asking, and you know it.” 

George fisted his hands in his hair and groaned in frustration. “God you are too fucking much, you know that? I can’t count the number of times I’ve spent holding onto you for dear life because you were having another nightmare, or how many times I’ve come home to you find you spaced out or in the middle of a panic attack, and you don’t have the decency to admit you need help? I’m not qualified for this Joe!” 

“Because you’re not supposed to be my shrink, you’re supposed to be my boyfriend!” 

“I am your boyfriend!” 

“Yeah, well maybe you shouldn’t be.” Joe’s voice was quiet but the force of the words hit George like a grenade. 

He spluttered for a moment. “What did you say?” 

“You heard me.” 

“Yeah I heard you, I was just giving you a moment to rethink what just came out of your mouth.” 

George made his way to stand right in front of his boyfriend, who was watching him warily. 

“Take it back.” George stood nose to chin with Joe and Joe could feel his breath coming out in angry puffs down his neck. 

“What?”

“What you said about me not being your boyfriend anymore. Take. It. Back.” 

“What if I don’t?” Joe was nothing if not stubborn and this was a challenge he would not back down from, especially since, for once, he actually felt like he was in the right. 

“The fuck does that mean, Joe? Huh? Are you gonna break up with me because I was trying to take care of you? How the fuck dare you? I’ve sacrificed too damn much to make this relationship work, and you don’t get to just walk away from me. Do you hear me?!” George was screaming now, right in Joe’s face, fists pounding against his chest. 

Joe nearly exploded where he stood. “Because I don't need taking care of! Don’t you get it? I don't want someone to fix me because I’m not broken and no goddamned psychiatrist is gonna fix me!” Joe backs away and spins on his heel, heading straight for the door. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Out. I need some fuckin’ air.” Joe made sure to give the door a good slam on his way out. 

 

+

 

Three hours later Joe found himself in the same place he always wound up after he and George fought. 

He waved a lazy hand at the bartender to signal for another of whatever the hell he was drinking. He didn’t even care at this point. 

God, why did he always pick this place? He pondered the question until he stopped to remember that he knew the answer. 

This place was like the emergency center for brokenhearted bastards. The regulars, like himself, always seemed to come in when they were least in the mood for a good time, and more in the mood for drowning their sorrows. 

Joe glanced around to see who was in tonight. It was a pretty sparse group, but he did spot Babe sitting in the corner, empty glasses surrounding him as he quietly sang along to the sad song being crooned from the stage by an equally drunk Speirs. Joe had to do a double take because Speirs singing was definitely a first. Lip must really be pissed. 

“Here you go, Joe.” Nix set another glass of whiskey in front of him. 

“Thanks, Nix.” 

“No problem. Anything for my regulars.” 

Joe watched as he sauntered off, attending to another customer who was nearly tipping off his stool and still calling for more shots. Nix had been married and divorced on no less than three separate occasions. Joe knew this because Nix was not the suffer in silence kind of man that Joe fancied himself to be, and had spilled his sorrows to almost every semi-regular in the bar. It was the reason Nix was so happy to have bastards like Joe around. Made him feel less like he was alone, even though that’s exactly what he was. 

That’s why they all came here, Joe realized. Their better halves had disowned them for a night and like the lost bastards they are they all gather in the same place. It was pitiful really, but none of them could help it. They were lost without their reasons to live. 

Unfortunately, his reason to live was currently trying to force him into something that terrified the shit out of him. 

Joe looked down at his legs. His dark jeans and the way he was sitting kept anyone aside from himself from being able to tell he only had one real leg intact. The prosthetic was doing it’s job and Joe should be glad but he had never felt anything but disgust for his fake limb. It wasn’t him, and he hated to pretend. But the thought of going back to the crutches, and worse, the pitying looks, kept him putting it on day in and day out. 

He remembers the looks well. He remembers everything; can never forget what happened that day. The IED. The searing pain. The shouts for medics and the sounds of fellow soldiers getting blown to bits beside him. It was hell, pure and simple, and his leg is a cruel, constant reminder. 

George wasn’t kidding when he said it was becoming a problem. Joe knew he was getting worse. The nightmares which had started out as occasional nuisances had become nightly demons, and those moments of panic that kept him from breathing were stealing more and more breaths every day. But just the thought of letting someone he didn’t even know into his head was terrifying. And for George to spring it on him last minute like that, it had been too much too fast and he had overreacted—

Shit. What had he done? He had basically told George he might want to break up and then he had just left. God he was such an asshole. He threw back the whiskey left in his glass and slammed the glass down. 

“Better be careful, drinkin’ like that can get you into trouble real fast.” The familiar voice came from behind Joe’s shoulder. He spun around on his stool to face the owner. 

His beautiful boyfriend stood before him, face rosy, shoulders covered in snow. 

Joe blinked owlishly at him. “George? What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question really, all the better halves knew exactly where their boys went to pout, and more importantly, where to pick them up when they got too drunk for Nix to handle. 

George laughed, actually swear-to-god laughed, and looked Joe up and down. “Well my lost boyfriend should be around here somewhere,” he said, pretending to look for someone in the bar, “and he left his coat at home. Didn’t want him to catch cold.” 

Belatedly, Joe realized George was, indeed, holding his coat in his hands. 

“Oh.” He replied lamely. 

George rolled his eyes and slid onto the stool next to Joe’s. They sat in silence for a moment while Nix got the beer George didn’t order. (The was the thing about Nix, he was good at his job. He had a sixth sense about when and what to serve each patron.) 

After Nix set his drink down and walked away, George took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Joe.

Joe was incredulous. “What— what for?” 

George looked at him, perplexed. “For earlier. I shouldn’t have pressured you, and I definitely should’ve talked to you before I made that appointment. It was stupid of me. I’m sorry.” 

He hesitated a moment before reaching out and rubbing Joe’s cheek with his thumb. 

“When you said that thing about my not being your boyfriend anymore.. I nearly had a heart attack. The thought of losing you, over something I had done, was.. well it felt like I was staring into the face of hell. I realized I’d do anything to get you back. I don’t want to lose you.” 

Joe grabbed George’s hand. “Lose me? God I’m such a fucking idiot. George, you were never gonna lose me. I said a lot of things I shouldn’t but you're the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me and—” Joe took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking it over and I’m willing to try it.” 

It was George’s turn to blink in confusion. “Try what?”

Joe looked sheepish, which was a new look for him. “The shrink. I’m willing to let him try to fix me.” 

George stood up so suddenly that Joe jumped in surprise. He was standing right in Joe’s space now. George grabbed Joe’s collar and pulled him so his eyes were staring directly into his own. 

“Now you listen to me, Joe Toye. You. Do. Not. Need. Fixing.” He enunciated every word slowly, emphasizing the not. “You need help sorting through your feelings and memories. That is all. No one can fix you because, as you pointed out earlier, you are not broken. Am I making myself clear?” 

Joe held up his hands in mock surrender. “Loud and clear, George.” 

George softened his grip but kept his hands bunched in Joe’s shirt. “You are perfect. I just don’t like to see you in pain. I love you too much.” Softly, he kissed Joe’s nose. 

“I love you too.” Joe put his arms around his boyfriend and closed the rest of the distance between them. The kiss was slow and sweet, and it said everything neither of them had the words to say, but each felt in their hearts all the same. 

Joe held George for what seemed like ages before finally opening his mouth to ask before he lost his nerve. “George?” 

George hummed against his chest in response. 

“Would you come with me?” 

George pulled back enough to look into Joe’s eyes. “Of course.” He nodded decisively. Then he seemed to remember something. “Where are we going?” 

Joe’s eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. “The shrink. Will you come with me? I’d feel better if you were there. In the room.” 

George’s eyes shone. “Of course, Joe. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

 

5 months later 

 

Joe paced nervously on the stage at the back of the bar. “Where is he? He said he’d be here at 6.” 

Lipton rolled his eyes. “Since when have you ever known George Luz to be on time for anything?” 

“Well you’d think he’d show up for his own goddamned engagement.” Joe groused. 

Babe piped up from where he sat in Gene’s lap. “Gee I wonder why he doesn’t know to show up on time for his own engagement?” Mock confusion dripping from his voice. “Could it be because—GASP— he doesn’t know?” 

“Yeah yeah, shut up.” Joe muttered something under his breath about redheads. “Gene, smack him for me please?” 

Gene gave a playful slap to the back of Babe’s head, earning a hair-ruffling in return. 

Ron stood behind Lipton’s shoulder, looking on in mild amusement. “They’re like children.” 

There was a chorus of “hey!” and “that’s not true!” but it was interrupted when Webster walked in, dragging a complaining Luz with him. 

“What’s the rush? I was gonna get here eventually!” George was saying to Webster, who remained unimpressed and continued to drag Luz through the bar towards the stage. When he got him there he shot Joe an exasperated look to say ‘he’s your problem now’ and went to sit next to Liebgott. 

When George spotted everyone he instantly brightened. “Oh hey guys! I was just telling Web here that I was on my way when I spotted the most adorable puppy in this pet shop window, I’m telling you guys he is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen—” 

He trailed off as he took in everyone’s excited faces. “What’s going on here?” 

Joe held up the microphone and cleared his throat. George seemed to notice him for the first time. “Joe?” He looked up at him questioningly. 

“George Luz. You know I’m not good with words but.. I have something to ask you…” 

The rest of the proposal came out in a clumsy, jumbled mess and Joe was sure he had botched it when suddenly his arms were full of the excitable ball of energy that is George Luz, and he was smothered in kisses in between breathless yes’s. 

The guys clapped and hollered. Nix smiled at him from behind the bar. 

Joe looked out at the brokenhearted bastards and their better halves, smiling back him. 

Maybe there was hope for them yet.


End file.
